Direct Contact

by Ninette Swann

  Malcolm should be scared, but elation overpowered any negative feelings. “Anna knows her name?” He sobered with her sharp glance. “I just…she’s a special little girl. And not in the Special Ones way. She’s got something in her head.”

  “Not the point,” Julie replied. “The point is stop. How did you manage that, anyway?”

  “I don’t rightly know,” Malcolm said, thinking hard. “I haven’t done anything differently. Well, other than want to protect her. Her time is coming, and I’m worried. I like that one. I don’t want to kill her.”

  “Yeah, right, okay,” Julie snorted. Did he detect jealousy? “Get out of her head. She’s under a lot of pressure. She doesn’t need you muddying the waters right before the injection.”

  There was his opening. “Actually, that’s why I wanted to meet with you today.” That and he’d wanted to see her slim frame and beautiful face. He glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. Julie cocked her head, waiting. “I don’t want to inject these girls. It’s too risky. Twenty-five times George tried, and twenty-five times, the woman perished. I haven’t perfected the method, nor the serum. To continue injecting without having made appropriate changes will lead to the same result.” He felt himself getting nervous. “I’ve never killed anyone. I don’t want their blood on my hands.”

  Julie scrutinized him, her gaze raking over him, making his cheeks heat. “So, you’re saying that because you haven’t done your job, you now want to risk your life and tell the emperor he cannot have his super-heir? Are you nuts? If you’d just done what you were supposed to do, everything would be flying along right now.”

  “What was I supposed to do, Julie?” he griped. “I hardly got any training. I’d never even seen the process before George was gone, and suddenly I’m the head of the whole shebang. There were no notes, nothing to go on. My experiments can only get me so far.”

  She smiled secretively at him. “Are you sure there are no notes?” she asked. “Did you even look?”

  “What?”

  “Well, I know—I mean, knew—George quite well. It seems unlikely he left you with no guide.”

  “If you’ve got something to say, Julie, you’d better spit it out. I’m running out of time, and I don’t like going in the dark. I’m a scientist for Christ’s sake.”

  “Then act like a scientist. If you were the head of a major experimental operation that was ethically wrong, would you leave notes lying about in the open?” She shook her head. “George liked and trusted you. He had to, or he wouldn’t have set you up for his job before he left. Use the brain he thought you had. We’ve been rearing these girls since they were babies. In twenty-five years, you think a brilliant mind like George would be unable to procure a super-spawn for our mighty hero?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice, and he wondered what she hid beneath it. This level of vitriol was unlike her. “Or do you think there could possibly be another reason the emperor has yet to see an heir?”

  Malcolm’s thoughts tumbled. In his few meetings with Julie, she’d never mentioned knowing George more than in passing. She’d allowed Malcolm to talk about him as if he were a stranger to her. Malcolm liked her because she seemed an individual among the drones, but she’d offered him any information to him. Now, she talked as if she knew the project better than he did. And as if George wasn’t dead.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  She gave him a broad grin. “I am Julie, one of the many attendants to the Special Ones. Better to ask who I was.”

  “Who were you then?”

  “You’re not ready to know yet.” She stood with finality. “Stop messing with Anna’s brain patterns until you do a little research. Come back to me when you have a plan.”

  She started walking away, the flat of her heels hitting the tiled floor.

  “Julie,” he called.

  She stopped but didn’t turn around.

  “Is George alive?”

  She began walking again, never giving an answer.

  * * * *

  Julie paced back and forth in her small attendant bedroom suite. If Malcolm was going to start messing with the girls, he had to be more prepared. One didn’t just launch into something like this with no plan. And it was clear that for all his brains, Malcolm had no idea what he was doing. But Julie did. She wished she could contact George, but he was lost to her for now.

  The point had always been to get Malcolm onboard and get out intact, but the time was never right. With the security constraints, she’d never had a chance to explain who she was. Not to mention, she was afraid Malcolm wouldn’t accept the truth. He did, bottom line, work for the emperor.

  So did she, technically, but she was a special case. She’d basically been trained for revolution for the last five years. She’d been without George’s tutelage for only six months. She prayed she wouldn’t let him down.

  Of course, if they failed, the blame wouldn’t fall squarely on her shoulders. George was supposed to talk to Malcolm before he disappeared, to tell him where the notes were and explain the plan. She was only meant to facilitate the escape. When the emperor’s wrath had come down upon George, it had been unexpected. He’d thought he would be able to slip away on his own terms, joining the girls he’d squirreled away to relative safety—as safe as The Levels could be. Instead, the scientist had found himself sneaking out in the middle of the night, running for his life.

  Julie was the only reason the man was still alive. While dropping off notes on the new batch of Special Ones, she’d heard the emperor was filling part of the East Wing with cement. With George in it. Normally, projects aren’t spoken of, but this particular request had been so odd that one of the builders was double-checking with Michelle, the emperor’s secretary, that he had the right assignment. The East Wing of the Rouble Palace contained only the library and George Hawin’s quarters.

  Julie had run right to him, and told him to get out. To this day, that was the bravest thing she’d ever done. And he’d lived because of it. But all their carefully laid plans had gone out the window. Now, Julie was on her own for the first time.

  She’d felt on that day that she’d finally repaid the man for saving her from the life of a Special One. Only Number Two, she’d surely have died if injected with the preliminary serum. She’d never wanted to be a carrier. She hadn’t wanted to be a Special One, just like Anna didn’t. She didn’t want to live in her quarters with no books other the texts given to her by The New Government, and even back then, she’d known the information in those books was false. She had known somehow that there was more world out there than just Terrecina, and yet her studies had insisted that Terrecina was all there was.

  The history books said the emperor had risen up after the collapse of the broader world, saving the few he could take with him, encasing the small area in a bubble with artificially made air and water, ensuring everyone within it could start a new society. There were strict rules in place. Women were only to serve their men. Only one child per couple and that was only after a petition to the government. Sterilizations occurred for the good of the future generations.

  As Julie pondered all this, she thought maybe being a Special One was better than being a woman in the New Government’s world. Of course, the women and men in the texts who’d adhered to the rules were heralded as heroes and saints, while those rebels who’d dared go against the regime’s rules were painted as selfish outlaws, bent on breaking the very society that had saved them. Those people deserved their fates. They deserved to be thrown down to The Levels.

  Until meeting George, Julie hadn’t been sure The Levels even existed except as a scare tactic to keep everyone in line. Yes, there was the smoke, but that could be faked. George had opened her eyes. He had given her the choice, of course. The choice she would soon give Anna.

  Julie had chosen the truth. It hadn’t been an easy road, but with George’s fatherly guidance, she’d felt safer in the real world than she’d ever felt as a Special One. But she’d felt safe as an accom
plice, not as a leader. Julie didn’t think she had what it took to be a leader. And yet, she had no choice.

  She laid down and waited for sleep, dreading the future ahead of her.

  Chapter Three

  Scattered papers covered the metal-tiled floor in the surveillance room. All the file cabinet drawers were opened. Ceiling tiles were piled in the corner as Malcolm searched the area for any clues George might have left him. After nearly three hours of looking, he still had nothing. No lock boxes, no memos, no trace of his former boss at all. Malcolm had already scoured his personal quarters. George’s room was not only locked but blocked off. In fact, it was as if a room had never existed there. After Malcolm had met with Julie, he ventured into the East Wing of Rouble Palace, where George had resided. There was nothing there but a library, full of books from the old days. Books that only a few were allowed to access. Malcolm was one of those few. His work required him to have an understanding of scientific breakthroughs made in the time before The Collapse.

  Of course, he hadn’t been down that way since George’s death months back. Too many sad memories threatened to overwhelm there. When he’d pressed the old code to open the sliding library doors, it had appeared no one else had been there either. Thick layers of dust covered the sparse furniture in the corridor. The heavy library door remained undisturbed. Malcolm had taken the familiar route, turning right at the end of the hall to where George’s room had been, the last one on the left. Only there had been no door. A cement wall greeted him. It felt rough to his fingertips as he ran his hand over it, looking for any evidence a room still existed behind it. He’d come up with nothing then nerves had gotten the best of him, and he had walked briskly away. Something was definitely wrong.

  Now, he ran his hands through his hair before tidying the mess he’d made. His time was short. The emperor would meet with Twenty-six tomorrow. Next week, he would meet with Anna, probably as Malcolm performed the injection on the first girl.

  Malcolm hated to admit defeat, but he needed to go back to the source or as close to the source as he could get. Julie. He reorganized his papers, closed and locked all the storage compartments, and replaced the ceiling tiles. Surveying his work, he nodded. Nothing looked out of place.

  He headed down to the emperor’s secretary’s office. The short walk to the North Wing took him through the Palace’s courtyard. The sun shone through the glass panels overhead, lifting Malcolm’s spirits a bit. Though he knew from his readings that January was historically a cold month, the emperor kept the temperature on the whole of Terrecina at seventy degrees. The rich could go to Hollo Resort if they wanted skiing or snow sports. Malcolm had been there several times as a child but never as an adult. The cold temperatures did nothing for him.

  He buzzed the secretary from the courtyard door, and she let him in immediately.

  “Hello, Mal,” she said with affection. The gray-haired woman had been serving the emperor since before Malcolm was born. She’d been the one who’d greeted him the first time he’d made his way to Rouble Palace, having known his parents through her own family out in the suburbs of the island. She’d beamed when he’d accepted his scientist position. He hadn’t spoken to her much in the following years but couldn’t help but view her as a grandmotherly figure to him.

  “Hi, Michelle,” he said. Then he blushed. He’d always hated this part. When the emperor had told him he would have his pick of any woman, he hadn’t lied. The catch was that Malcolm had to request and register for each of them. So Michelle knew about every woman he’d ever slept with. Both parties then had to undergo a physical examination and take an anti-fertility pill before they were allowed to have sex. If someone fell in love and wanted to start a family within the palace walls, the paperwork was endless. Either way, it was an embarrassing process and one that probably kept most of the men in the palace fairly chaste, despite the female options available to them.

  “Well, get on with it then,” the old woman said kindly. “Who is she?”

  “I’d like to petition for Julie Gladwell to come to my quarters this evening.”

  “Not good enough,” she said simply.

  Malcolm sighed. “Michelle,” he said in a formal tone, “may I have the paperwork to fill out to invite Miss Julie Gladwell to have sexual relations with me for the next month at least, starting tonight? Should we decide to continue after a month’s time, I will apply for an extension.”

  Michelle smiled at him. “That’s better. Sorry, I had to do that to you, but you know the emperor and his formalities. Everything has to be by the book and on record. And remember, you have to come back each evening you would like to see her. Unless, of course, you upgrade your relationship status.” Her old eyes looked kindly at him, and he almost blushed. He knew she wanted him to settle down with a woman. He just hadn’t found anyone yet.

  “I know,” he said, his head down. While he would love to have sex with Julie, his reason for meeting her was entirely different. It felt odd lying to his old friend—even odder than having to ask her every time he wanted a woman.

  “Okay, fill out this form then give me a sample in the bathroom on your right. I won’t accompany you. I trust you. Just bring the cup out front when you’re done, and I’ll have the physician call you in.”

  “Thanks, Chelle,” he said and took the paperwork and cup from her.

  Half an hour later, he was given a clean bill of sexual health and returned back to the courtyard, the strain of the day weighing heavily upon him. He laid on a bench, looking up at the distant winter sun. Michelle had promised to call for Julie before the evening.

  She was going to be pissed at his forwardness, especially since he’d never asked her first. He chuckled to himself. Served her right for not being forthright with the information he needed.

  * * * *

  “I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were made the new Emperor, just so you know.” Julie paced back and forth in his bedroom, seething. Malcolm gave a nervous laugh, but the words stung. He’d known she’d be annoyed at this ploy, but they really did need to meet in private. Plus, what would be so bad about having sex with him? He tried to brush aside the ego-sting and took her in. Julie had been forced to gussy up, wearing full makeup and evening wear, and Malcolm had to admit she looked more than a little fetching, her short dark hair bobbing angrily as she shook her head at him. He decided the lady protested too much.

  “Normally, I hate the misogynistic ways of Terrecina,” he said, fighting a smile and swiveling around in his chair, “but I have to say, this is almost worth all the injustice.”

  Julie sat down on his bed, the satin gown stretching across her pert breasts, the fabric not shielding her taut nipples from his view. Malcolm smirked. Maybe, he had a shot after all. But tonight was not about sex. It was about revolution.

  Still, he couldn’t help his gaze from raking over her lithe frame, taking in the curves of her hips and thighs as she crossed her long legs. His eyes went back to her face, her small mouth and rouged lips as she spoke again.

  “Malcolm, I am not having sex with you.”

  He laughed, letting her off the hook.

  “Thank goodness for that,” he said, shooting her a look that he hoped said he didn’t mean it at all. Back to business. “We wouldn’t have time to do it and talk about saving the new round of Special Ones.” His last words were a bluff. He didn’t know what George had done with the twenty-five girls. Maybe, they really had died, but based on Julie’s previous confidence and the man George was, Malcolm had a hunch that the girls hadn’t died at all. What had happened, he had no clue, but it had to be something.

  Julie’s eager expression told him he wasn’t far off the mark. “You found it, then?”

  He shook his head. “No. I didn’t. Do you know where it is?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Well?”

  He waited.

  “I can’t tell you.” She got up and walked toward him, whispering, “If the information leads back to me
, I will be killed. Not only that, but everything we’ve been working toward will be in jeopardy. You must figure it out yourself.”

  He bristled, half-perturbed that she thought him an idiot and half-aroused at her new nearness. If he stretched out his arm, he’d touch that wondrous softness shielded by so much steel.

  He didn’t move. “I won’t tell anyone you told me.”

  She sighed. “Look, we don’t have much time, and we need you, so I’m going to assume you’ll smarten up as we move along. George has a lot of faith in you, and I trust him, which means you must have something going on upstairs.”

  “You’re using the present tense, Julie. Is George alive?”

  The feeling of her lips on his took him completely off-guard. He nearly fell off his chair, the metal legs of it scraping against the tile floor at the force of her advance. His hands took on a life of their own, reaching around her slight but strong shoulders and pulling her closer to him. She allowed it and thrust her sweet-tasting tongue into his mouth, flooding his senses with desire. Her tight butt landed on his lap and jolted him as the pressure and friction brought him to a near frenzy. He had to pull back. Forcing himself to grip her upper arms, he was surprised at the hard muscle there. She eased off at his physical suggestion, both of them out of breath.

  “You work out?” he asked, feeling silly for the question.

  She laughed, the sound a light, intoxicating jingle. “Yes,” she whispered, leaning close. “And I’m still not having sex with you, but who knows if that old bugger has a surveillance system in here. I can’t very well tell you anything out loud, and if he’s watching, he’ll want to see some action.”

  Malcolm held his disappointment deep within him, trying not to let it reach his face. So it was all a joke? She’d feel below that he wasn’t joking at all.